


Lure for a Hawk

by Nomader



Series: Partners [2]
Category: Laramie (TV)
Genre: First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomader/pseuds/Nomader
Summary: Responsibilities and assumptions come into conflict with justice, generosity and trust, creating turmoil for Slim Sherman in his first encounter with Jess Harper. A development of the nuances of ‘Stage Stop’ and of the first exploration of this meeting in 'The Hand You’re Dealt'.





	Lure for a Hawk

 Foreword

This is part of an m/m series of stories (Partners), as indicated in the Archive Warnings, but forms a contrast to _The Hand You’re Dealt_. The m/m context is minimal in this story in the series. The stories are strictly about fictional characters and not intended to reflect on the original actors.

 

* * *

 

_'An empty hand is no lure for a hawk'_

(Proverb & _Canterbury Tales,_ Chaucer)

 

“Stay right where you are!”

Slim Sherman slide the rifle bolt, so that the sound would warn the stranger not to try anything on with him. He was thoroughly irritated at yet another intruder, one so bad at reading he’d actually hitched his horse to the ‘No Trespassing’ sign. Anger deepened Slim’s voice. He just hoped he sounded sufficiently intimidating.

If he did, the man lying quietly by the lake showed no sign of it. All Slim could see was a black hat, apparently covering the man’s face as he lay propped up against a conveniently fallen tree. A black hat and, beyond it, a pair of dusty black boots. Boots worn to the shape of the wearer’s foot and bearing the unmistakable scuff-marks and worn patches which came from long contact with stirrups and spurs. The rest was more or less hidden by the bulk of the tree trunk. The stranger appeared to be completely relaxed.

Something about this casual disregard for his stern warning, not to mention the law of land and, more important, water rights, riled the normally calm Slim Sherman considerably. He strode angrily round the log and came to a halt beside the man, who had not moved a muscle from where he was taking his ease beside the lake. Slim ran his eye over the body below him, taking in the coarse cotton shirt covering broad shoulders and chest, and worn pants which clung tightly to slim hips and muscled legs, a sinewy hardness which spoke of a life spent on the trail. And it was not entirely true that the stranger had not moved a muscle – but it was probably an unfortunate coincidence – or at any rate, Slim hoped so!

He hastily averted his eyes to the stranger’s hands. The man might look relaxed, but Slim was taking no chances.  “Keep your hands where they are. Don’t move.”

The man shifted slightly as he stretched his arms even further behind his hat. Slim kept his eyes riveted on those hands. He still could not see what kind of a character he was facing but he suspected the worst. His passing glance at the sinewy, powerful body stretched out on the grass confirmed that this was someone tough and physically confident, since he remained almost entirely without tension.

“Just stay right where you are,” Slim was taking no chances with the probable thoughts going on under that hat, even if they were just a contemptuous disregard for the little matter of trespassing – something the stranger appeared to think he had a perfect right to do. Slim was determined to find out why. “What are you doing here?”

 “Gettin’ a crick in my back.” 

There was a marked Southern accent in this first utterance. Despite the length of time the war had been over, the voice brought back memories Slim would rather not recall. At best his feelings were ambivalent: he’d fought valiantly for the principles he believed in, yet his convictions had been challenged by the courage and dedication of some of the men who fought against him. The war had been a bloody and often senseless experience, where periods of frenzied action contrasted grimly with prolonged, debilitating boredom. Slim wondered how the stranger had felt about it. By the looks of his lean frame he had not been eating well during or after the conflict. Yet there was a power in the leanness, the sense of something dangerous beneath the battered clothes, like the sharp blade of a knife hidden in a harmless-looking sheath. It was the look of someone capable of extricating himself from trouble by sheer confidence and quick thinking.

Slim had to hand it to him - he had more than a double helping of coolness under pressure! And likely a lot of other tricks up his sleeve too. Giving a very swift glance at the man’s waist, Slim saw an obviously well-kept gun-belt, although the gun itself was hidden below the curve of a strong thigh. Slim was determined not to look too closely, but it was going to be a whole lot more comfortable if this man was disarmed.

“Give me your gun. Take it slow.”

The man still did not react physically, except to pull his gun out slowly and hand it over politely. Slim took it quickly, giving no more than cursory attention to the weapon – he was too busy keeping an eye on its owner. Nonetheless, he noticed the balanced feel of it and the handle smooth as silk under his fingers except where the owner’s fingertips had worn a slight roughness into the grip.

“Alright, you can get up now.”

The man pushed his hat back and rolled swiftly over and onto his feet in one lithe movement. He moved with the sinuous grace of a hunting wild cat and looked about as safe.

Slim ran his eyes appraisingly over the man now confronting him face to face. He had expected someone much older, given the trail-worn experience written into this cowboy’s gear, which indicated that he had been on the drift for some time. At a guess the man was several years younger than Slim himself, but it was difficult to tell because he had such an air of arrogant self-confidence and experience. Slim had already noted his physical characteristics. Now he saw a face lean as the body, sharp as a hawk - the jaw strong, determined and shadowed with stubble, the planes of cheekbone and brow clean-carved. Above them tumbled dark, slightly curly hair, rough-cut and unruly. Startlingly blue eyes were set beneath black, slanted eyebrows which were quirked in quite inappropriate amusement, given that the owner was disarmed and facing an angry landowner.

Consequently the landowner had no compunction about subjecting his captive to another inquisition.

“Where’re you going?”

“West.”

“There’s a road going west.”

“With ruts a foot deep and he don’t like it.” The young man grinned rather wickedly and gestured towards his horse.

Slim diverted the glare he was aiming at the drifter to the animal. Like its owner, if he was the owner of course, the horse had a rangy fitness and a fine coating of trail-dust on its hide. “Looks like he’s had a long hard ride.”

For a split second irritation flashed through the young man, his eyes narrowed and his body tensed – the imputation had obviously ruffled his feathers - but his quick retort was a challenge.

“Any law against that?” His tone and his grin were impudent in the extreme.

Slim could sense that the other wanted to needle him into a fight, presumably with the intention of getting his gun back. He was not going to rise to the bait and, instead, gave the bay horse almost his total attention. The animal could well be stolen, as drifters were not scrupulous keepers of the law at the best of times and this one was certainly blithe in his disregard of it.

“Well, that depends.”

“That’s a Texas brand. Wanna see the bill of sale?”  the young man goaded. It made sense, given his accent. He was still radiating a willingness to fight, from the light glinting in those blue eyes to the coiled power in every muscle of his body.

Slim had never before seen anyone who could send out such contradictory signals of ‘ _I’m spoiling for a fight!’ and ‘Don’t mess with me!’_ at the same time. The stranger was obviously big trouble in a small package – or so it seemed to Slim, who was several inches taller. It was providential he did not remark on this, as he was to discover later. He actually knew well enough that the smallest hawks were often the fiercest. Now every new observation was reinforcing his desire to see this intruder off his land for good.

“All I want to see is your dust. Heading either way you want to go, but on that road. This is private property.”

This earned him another cocky grin as the drifter pulled on his jacket, which was as battered as all his other clothes and, tellingly, had a bullet hole in the right sleeve.

“I’ll be glad to oblige you.” The young man walked over and nonchalantly unhitched his horse from the sign. He looked over his shoulder and added: “I had three or four swallows out of your private stream and my horse helped himself too. So you just figure out what I owe you and I’ll be on my way.”

The man hopped easily into his saddle and sat looking down with an expression of amusement and something else Slim was not quite able to define.

“Oh, and I looked at a bird flying over.” He waved an airy hand at the sky. “Will there be a charge for that too?”

Slim ground his teeth at this mocking nonchalance. “If you owned this spread, you’d be leery of strangers too. It’s the only water this side of Laramie and it happens to be on my property.”

He kept his tone confident and resolute. The land and its potential were sacrosanct to Slim and he had no intention of letting anyone do anything detrimental to or on it. His eyes dropped fleetingly and lovingly to the earth he claimed as his land.

The next second his rifle was jerked out of his hand and a boot hit him in the chest, putting the drifter totally in control of the situation. Slim could have kicked himself, never mind the one he had just received! He had been unforgivably naive around this unknown saddle tramp and made it all too easy for him to gain the upper hand. It would have served Slim right if he’d got killed!

And that started a whole train of thought about what would happen if he was so stupid as to end up stopping a bullet. -  _What if he were crippled!_ W _hat would happen if Slim failed to fulfill his responsibilities! What if he died! What would happen to Andy? -_

His angry, disconcerted thoughts were interrupted abruptly.

“Now give me my gun  … Easy … And yours.”

Their roles now fully reversed, the stranger was able to look down at Slim and subject him to an interrogation in exchange. All the humor had vanished from the young man’s eyes. His tone was a low growl, which brooked no opposition.

“How often do you get into Laramie?”

The inquiry baffled Slim completely. There was no reason for the trespasser to want to know his personal habits. But the grim look on the face of his interrogator made Slim respond briefly: “Every week or so.”

“Anybody there by the name of Pete Morgan?” 

“Not that I know of.”

“D’you ever hear of him?”

“Nope.” Laramie was not a large town, but he still didn’t know every soul in it, never mind their business.

The lack of information was met with a scowl. It was a scowl which suggested very clearly that getting on the wrong side of the dark-haired drifter would be a serious mistake. Yet Slim was not in the slightest afraid, even though he was unarmed and facing a man he considered to be potentially dangerous. Some instinct told him this man would never gun down an unarmed opponent.

The stranger had his gun and his rifle and Slim was unarmed. He waited with interest to see what the young man would do. This reversal of fortune had the drifter facing the same dilemma which had been Slim’s a few minutes ago. It was all very well to take a man’s gun, but then what did you do with it, unless you were simply to leave him at the mercy of an environment full of danger? Slim could ride to safety easily enough, but guns and rifles were an investment and being deprived of one or both was a considerable loss. The likelihood was that the stranger would dump the weapons before he got on his way entirely and no doubt chuck them away somewhere nice and distant and probably difficult to retrieve them from.

Despite the thought of a most likely painful and undignified struggle to regain his weapons, Slim had to admit there was something about this whole encounter which was bordering on the ridiculous! His own reaction had been hostile to a degree out of proportion to the situation and the drifter’s contrasting response had shown that he did not take their exchange at all seriously, at least until he started questioning Slim about the man called Pete Morgan. Now Slim could almost see the thoughts passing through the young Texan’s mind as he obviously considered what to do.

He found out soon enough. As the stranger urged his bay into motion, he looked down with another mischievous grin and told the watching Slim: “Well, stay out of those woods. I saw a jack rabbit in there and he looked real mean!”

With that, he urged his horse into a lope and left Slim standing, as he had requested, in a cloud of dust! Slim watched his departure with a sudden and unaccountable amusement. He was well rid of the intruder, but he had to admire the man’s cheek!

*** * * * * * ***

Quite a while after retrieving his weapons from a thorn thicket and leaving the area of the lake, Slim spent some time repairing a particularly difficult section of fencing, which cost him considerable sweat and hard labor. But, finally, he was able to make his way back to the ranch for a will-earned midday break. He rode down the ridge above the main road which led directly to the corral of the Sherman Ranch and Relay Station. The spread was not large, just the little ranch house, a barn, corrals and a few outbuildings, but Slim was justifiably proud of its workmanlike appearance and the way in which he had managed to follow his pa’s ambitions and his dream for this, the best cow country in the territory. He skirted round the loose horses grazing on the hill-slope and came to a halt, looking down into the corral.

The oldest inhabitant was grooming a horse at the corral rail. Despite the tiring and irritating morning he had had, Slim smiled affectionately. Jonesy might dislike and distrust horses, but he had the life of the ranch at the heart of his own life. Sure enough, as Slim rode down, he heard the old cook muttering about the horse.

“Bite me first and then trample me to death, would y’?” He looked up at the sound of hooves, a little slow to respond to the approach, although this was much down to his age.

“Howdy!”

Slim believed in praise where praise was due and he knew that this part of the work would have cost his old friend. “You’ve got him looking good, Jonesy.”

It was typical of the old man’s dry humor that he did not castigate the horse who, out of all four-legged creatures, gave him a hard time. But his wisecracks alarmed Slim.

“You didn’t get kicked again, did you?”

Apparently not. By some miracle, Jonesy always seemed to escape the level of injury which would have necessitated the application of what Slim laughingly called his ‘witch’s brew’.  Jonesy’s experiments with medicinal herbs and healing remedies were, he maintained stoutly, a scientific procedure, but his young boss was less sanguine and told him jokingly: “When science catches up with you, animals are going to live for ever.”

Slim began to undo the cinch on his mount’s saddle and this brought him abruptly back to practical realities as he inquired sharply: “Where’s Andy? I told him to soap that harness good.”

The reply was not at all what he had expected and shocked him into immobility for a moment.

“He’s playin’ poker.”

“WHAT!” Slim gasped, so stunned that he pushed back his hat and laid a hand on his own forehead. It did nothing for his response to this information to hear his little brother had added _again_ to his collection of strays – and how the ranch was supposed to support free-loading animals, let alone humans, he just did not know!

Slim wrenched the saddle off and stormed into barn. It was too much! He accepted that the bulk of the heavy work and all the responsibility for the financial stability of the ranch fell on him. But Andy knew the importance of keeping the stage horses and their equipment in top condition. If they lost the money from the stage company franchise, it would mean the financial disaster for the ranch. That would be the end of all his pa, and after him Slim, had dreamed of. Why couldn’t his brother support this dream wholeheartedly when he owned half of it?

“Grow with Wyoming!” Jonesy quoted as Slim led his horse towards the paddock gate.  

It was a saying engraved on Slim’s heart. But he could not decide if his old friend was being sarcastic or not. He just replied shortly, “That’s the way Pa had it planned.”

“Always wanted to be ranchers and nuthin’ else.” Jonesy had hit the nail right on the head there. His next statement was less easy for Slim to acquiesce to. “Maybe Andy sees things different. Everybody looks at the world through their own knot-hole.”

There was no room in Slim’s world for seeing things differently. Not in the present circumstances, anyway. If Andy wanted to escape, he must do it by getting an education – qualifications – skills – which would take him on a much more definite progress through the wider world than his vague longings to hit the trail and see the ‘exciting side’ of life. Slim was determined to keep Andy away from the temptations of the town, particularly while all the fuss over the trial of one of Bud Carlin’s gang lasted, and intended that his brother’s concentration should be focused where it would do him most service.

“See he studies his books while I’m away. That boy’s going to amount to something, whether he wants to or not!”

His old friend made no answer to this and there was no way Slim could compel him to nor make him follow his orders. Instead Jonesy was regarding Slim with shrewd affection, for he knew full well the pressures and the goals which drove this young man. But he had his own view of what was best for both brothers and how Slim should be handling Andy’s growing rebellion against the routine and confines of the ranch.

So they were silent as they walked up to the ranch house. Slim entirely missed the significance of the way Jonesy had described Andy’s latest adoptee: ‘stray’ implied someone who needed looking after, but Slim was too riled to see it. He was still seething inwardly from the shock of learning what had drawn Andy from his work. He was not averse to a friendly game of poker himself, but he had been considerably older when he had learnt how to play. His consternation was complete when he opened the front door and discovered that self-same impudent drifter explaining how to deal off the bottom of the pack.

In the split second between opening the door and advancing on the pair at the table, a whole gamut of impressions and responses rushed through Slim’s mind. The first and most painful was the open admiration and friendliness with which Andy was regarding the stranger. Wide-eyed wonder at the man’s skill with cards only deepened this wound. Maybe the drifter didn’t choose to earn an honest living, but Slim and the whole Sherman family did! Slim was astounded too that anyone would think it appropriate to teach a youngster such skills and he was no way appeased by the stranger’s assertion that it was just a useful skill to prevent you being hornswoggled.

\- _And the stranger had the temerity to look totally at ease. Like a hawk come home to roost! -_

The gratitude and warmth in those bright blue eyes Slim attributed entirely to the fact that the man had found himself a soft touch. A good, hot meal had obviously been cooked by Jonesy and served by Andy and, despite the traditional hospitality accorded to travelers arriving at the ranch, Slim felt unreasonably angry that the man had been waited on and partaken of a good meal while Slim himself had been inspecting boundary fences, making repairs, checking on stock and assessing how long the grazing would last. He was starving hungry and this no-good saddle-tramp had eaten his dinner!

Andy was beaming all over his face. “Slim, meet Jess Harper.”

 “I’ve already had the pleasure.” Slim put all the ice of the Arctic into his tone. First he found the man making free with the water supply and flaunting his leisure in the face of the unrelenting hard work required from its owner by the ranch. Next he found his own home invaded! The fact the man didn’t even bother to stand up when the owner of the house appeared spoke volumes to Slim. Well, the ‘guest’ had outstayed his welcome, that was for sure, and he was about to get his marching orders in no uncertain terms.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Andy turned to his stray in surprise.  The obvious hurt and jealousy in his eyes made Slim flinch.

“How did I know you were brothers? Ain’t no family resemblance at all!” Harper’s response was casual and he looked as Slim with a dismissive grin, as if he couldn’t care less.

Slim cared. He cared more than anything about protecting the innocence of Andy’s boyhood, about providing him with a home which was as stable and secure as any frontier holding could be, and about making sure that he had the education to succeed with his brains as well as his brawn. He had no time for advice about how to avoid being fleeced in a poker game, whether it be with friends or strangers. Even if this stranger seemed to find the whole subject amusing!

Andy, however, was firmly resisting both his big brother’s attitude and his orders to make himself scarce. “I got company, Slim!”

The tone of Andy’s statement was proud and firm and just a shade surprised.  This was not the way they usually behaved to travelers. Slim had brought his brother up with good manners and he was prepared to stick to them.

It looked like a total stand-off. The saddle tramp was still lounging at the table, showing no signs of moving on. Andy was braced, resolute and defiant. Slim was about to remove the intruder by physical means if necessary.  

Unexpectedly, Jonesy spoke up to defuse the situation: “The stage’ll be here in ten minutes, let’s go fix up.” He steered Slim firmly through the door into the bedroom.

Their ensuing conversation made Slim no less irritable and considerably more defensive. He admitted to already having had a run-in with their so-called guest, but still felt it was justified because he was “acting kind of ornery.”

Jonesy was not impressed and called Slim to task on his attitude: “You acted kind of cordial?”

\- _Of course he hadn’t!  Cordiality? To some wandering raptor seizing whatever advantage there was … and any unwary prey!_ –

They didn’t have the time or the resources to wet-nurse every no-good saddle tramp Andy decided to adopt. Still less acceptable was his brother’s open admiration for such a feckless vagabond. The truth of the matter was that he’d expected more sympathetic support from his old friend and mentor. It did not help to be told: “He’s just a kid. So are you.” Not to mention being encouraged to take Andy with him into Laramie.

But Slim was not unreasonably stubborn and when Andy came in looking for his canteen, he curbed his irritation that he’d been the one who had to clean it out. So he made the offer Jonesy suggested, even amending it so Andy could have the thrill of staying in the hotel, despite the open gambling Slim so disapproved of.

It was a total shock to be turned down flat. Andy offered no explanation for changing his mind and refusing. Just slammed out of the bedroom again, yelling: “I don’t know, I just did!”

Slim’s anger flared again at this totally unreasonable behavior. He reckoned he could put an explanation to it and the explanation was sitting at the table in the next room! He recalled too the way Andy’s eyes had shifted briefly to the bottom drawer of the dresser, the one which contained his clothes and behind which Slim knew he kept his treasured possessions. It took no time at all to find that Andy’s savings and his father’s watch were not there.

Jonesy’s warning, “Slim, take it easy!”, went unheeded as Slim dashed out of bedroom.

Sure enough, the intruder was still lounging in his chair, idly shuffling the pack of cards. Slim was on him before he had a chance to do anything, slamming a hand into his arm, shoving him sideways and grabbing his gun from the holster. It mattered not at all to Slim that his first physical contact with Jess Harper was a violent one rather than a friendly handshake. He just snarled: “I’ll keep the gun this time.”

His action was risky, he knew. Guns not only represented a serious investment in equipment, but the man would be more or less helpless without it and would certainly not move on before somehow regaining it. As it was, the stranger was infuriated in his turn and jumped to his feet in an instant. Harper’s reactions were swift as a striking hawk, Slim had to admit, but he was fast himself and hell-bent on throwing out this disruptive influence!

“Slim!” Andy’s cry of protest passed almost unnoticed by the two angry young men.

 “Your company’s leaving, Andy and you’re staying.” It was time to make absolutely clear to Andy what his loyalty and his obedience to their father’s will meant.

The statement halted Harper in whatever protest or punch he had been about to throw. Slim could see that the man had suddenly realized the seriousness of the impact he had had on Andy’s determination to escape.

“Is that why you went in there, to tell him you were goin’ with me?” Harper sounded genuinely shocked. Something deep in Slim responded to this honest acceptance of responsibility for Andy’s actions, but it did not alter his own resolution.

Andy shook his head dumbly.

“He put two and two together, added 8 dollars and a solid gold watch, and that the answer he come up with!” Jonesy sounded almost amused at the way things were turning out, which goaded Slim even further.

“And he never comes up with the wrong answer, does he?” Harper stood four-square and the scowl he directed at Slim didn’t waver.

“Not this time, he didn’t.” Slim allowed his voice to grow chill with contempt and dislike.

“I say y’ did.” Harper’s bright blue eyes blazed with fury.

Their gaze locked and they glared at each other. They scarcely heard Andy’s supporting declaration: “So do I!” or Jonesy’s attempt to divert Andy with the prospect of a trip to Laramie.

Slim was filled with anger and despair at the way Andy had so easily been led into lying and deceit. He had, in this moment, no thought for the feelings and pressures which might have driven the boy to act this way.  Nor for the fact that he was just guessing at the stranger’s morals. He demanded: “I thought you had more sense. How long d’you think it would be before he ran out on you – with your money and your watch?”

At this he saw the drifter’s eyes narrow menacingly as if he was readying himself for action. It was a challenge Slim was perfectly prepared to meet. Instead Harper spoke over his shoulder to Andy, his eyes never leaving Slim’s face: “He’s talkin’ me into takin’ you along.”

\- _As if that wasn’t his intention! –_ Slim thought angrily.

“You get out of here. Go on, get!” Slim’s tone was threatening, for he had had enough and intended this human stray to go back to the wilderness where it belonged.

Harper took no notice at all of this, but leapt to Andy’s defense as swiftly as if the threat had been physically directed at the boy, not at him. “So you can start beatin’ up on him?”

Slim had never laid a hand on Andy in anger and, somewhere in a deep part of his mind, he wondered what experiences had led the Texan to make such an accusation. It did not, however, stop him retaliating.

He lunged forward and grabbed Harper by the neck, whirling him off-balance and pushing him hard so he staggered back against the wall. Their bodies slammed together and Slim was instantly aware of the hard warmth all along his own and the scent of leather and sweat and tobacco and something aromatic - _maybe cinnamon?_ \- in his nostrils. For a split second there was a sense of relaxation, almost of surrender, in the body he was pinning down, but before he could take any advantage of it in the fight, Harper flung his fists up between them and every muscle and sinew was braced and ready. Slim blinked, wondering what had just happened, but what happened next drove it right out of his head.

“Stay right where y’ are!”

The voice from the doorway froze them both in mid-punch. They were all in deep trouble.

For the voice continued: “I’m Bud Carlin. I don’t like to trouble y’ but me an’ my friends are hungry. What’s for dinner?”

 ***********  

Slim waited for the drifter who had so little regard for principles or the law to ingratiate himself with Carlin and his band - to slide out of danger with the facility of long practice and take flight with as little feeling for those left behind as some lone bird of prey.

No such thing happened. Not even when Carlin had them all standing lined up side by side to await the arrival of the stage. Harper lined up with the rest of them and kept his mouth shut, except when directly questioned. It didn’t escape Slim’s notice how quickly Andy jumped to the man’s rescue when Harper couldn’t give a time for the stage to arrive. Carlin’s henchman had been about to take out on the drifter’s skin his apparent refusal to divulge the information, but Andy’s quick intervention prevented the threatened blow.

So they stood in a line while Carlin mocked and joked his way through his devious plan.

Jonesy was playing the good old boy and answered Carlin’s questions with unshaken calm and dry wit, helping to keep them all steady under the relentless pressure of the outlaw’s interrogation. He even tried unsuccessfully to divert Carlin’s search for whiskey to the barn. Slim could have hugged him for his coolness and quick thinking. He himself was thinking furiously too, his eye on the guns on the table, but he knew there was little chance of reaching one, let alone using it, without provoking crossfire in which the others would be caught. Even if he had Harper’s surprising support, both of them together could not provide sufficient diversion to regain a weapon. Besides, there was at least one more outlaw outside who would have the advantage if they tried anything inside the house.

 _\- He was not going to give in, that was certain_! –

Every nerve and sinew was focused on the possibilities for turning the tables on Carlin. He turned his head slightly to check what was going on in the yard outside and his eyes met Harper’s in a swift but somehow united exchange. A sudden rapport flashed between them. The other man was quite obviously equally determined to prevent Carlin’s schemes. Slim felt a surprising sense of relief tinged with excitement. He had not expected this, but it was good to have someone else on his side when Carlin’s slick planning gave him all the advantages.

Slim tried to seize the opportunity to get sent out to the barn to deal with shoeing one of the gang’s horses, but Carlin was too canny: “You’re too anxious.” His eyes flicked along the line. “You two!”

That meant Slim had to trust Harper would protect Andy and prevent him trying anything rash when Carlin sent the pair of them out to the barn instead. There were rifles out there and Andy knew it. Slim’s guts clenched as he listened tensely for the sound of gunfire.

Mercifully, there was none.

Jonesy moved stiffly, favoring his back as he did so. Slim guessed he was trying to break up the target that Clint could keep his eye on, and supported this at once: “Let him sit down, he’s got a bad back.”

It was to no avail. Clint was not impressed by medical technicalities.

“Wish that stage’d hurry up,” Jonesy muttered.

“It may be the last one.” There was very little they could do to thwart Carlin’s plans without getting killed through needless heroics, but Slim knew that lack of opposition to the gang also laid them open to the accusation that they had co-operated with the raid and were in Carlin’s pay. If such a story reached the Overland Stage headquarters, it could cost them the very franchise which was keeping the whole place going.

“More stew and add plenty of pepper!” Clint demanded.

Jonesy took the plate with a foreboding look on his face. Slim grinned to himself without letting the expression show: Clint had no idea what Jonesy could do by way of additives which he would not relish at all!

There was no time for any such action on Jonesy’s part. Slim watched tensely when Harper was hustled back inside as the stage arrived, leaving Andy to deal with it. - _What would Andy do? Would he try some kind of warning? -_

Carlin was at window watching stage pull up. There was sneering satisfaction in his voice as he remarked, “His Honor, Thomas J. Wilkins.”

Slim, Jonesy and Harper all stared out of the window too.

Andy was talking to the only man to alight from the coach. Slim had no idea what his brother was saying, but the man looked puzzled and slightly impatient from what little Slim could see. It would not pay to try to delay Carlin now since he told his gang member, “I got this thing worked out like a timetable.” If Andy tried to interfere, Slim was sure Carlin would have no hesitation in killing him.

The judge was the only passenger. Carlin gleefully observed that any others had been kept away by a report in newspaper; Slim guessed Carlin had probably engineered such an article too, although the outlaw jokingly suggested it was just the weather which put people off.

Clint joined in with heavy humor and an offer to help blow up a storm, but Carlin stopped him right away. “You do it my way!”

Harper turned and looked at Slim. They locked eyes briefly, purposefully. But once again Slim could not see a way of out-smarting Carlin. Then the door opened and both of them directed their intent gaze on the judge as he was ushered in all unsuspecting.

The grotesque humor of Carlin’s personality became more and more evident when the judge was at his mercy. He proceeded ruthlessly to humiliate the representative of the law. Slim’s anger at this was only equaled by his admiration for the judge’s staunch defense of the law, even at the cost of his own life: “If you kill me, there’ll be other judges. You can’t kill them all.”

It was a courageous declaration which resonated deeply within Slim Sherman. He too was a man who would never relinquish his dedication to justice – it was part of his upbringing and his intrinsic integrity. His utter revulsion at Carlin’s casual mockery had him inwardly shaking with the force of his desire to even the score on the side of justice.

Moments later he moved swiftly to help the judge, who had been dashed to the ground right at their feet for refusing to give Carlin his coat. Just when it seemed things could not get any worse for the judge, Carlin, not content with merely taking the man’s coat, added another twist to his perverse amusement.

“Only one thing wrong. Dirty boots. Shine ‘em!” 

The ridicule and disrespect made bile rise in Slim’s throat.  – _Surely there must be a way to stop this! –_

At that moment, Jess Harper sneaked a look at Slim and Slim looked back at Jess. Determination and support flashed between them. Slim was totally taken aback to find in a drifter, who had probably been on the wrong side of the law more than once himself, a deep understanding of what really mattered. He felt as if, despite all which had gone before, they were sharing now a fundamental truth and a united resolve to fight this battle for justice together. Seconds later this resolve exploded into action.

Clint added to the humiliation of the judge’s position as his coarse laughter rang out. Slim felt Jonesy turn away as if he couldn’t stand watching anymore. He was of an age to feel for the judge and Carlin had already tried to belittle him too.

“On y’ knees, judge – do it right.”

Slim’s fury boiled up, seeking some way of action and redress.

“Remind me to give you a good tip, y’ honor!”

Carlin and Clint roared with laughter.

Slim exchanged a lighting look with Jess, then they both instantly focused on the two outlaws.

_– It was time for action! –_

Slim flung himself at Carlin, knocking him to the floor. Fierce triumph flooded through him as he got to grips at last with the man whose crude and cruel humor had to be experienced to be believed. He was more than a match for his opponent, but not for a henchman armed with the butt of a rifle. A glancing blow stunned Slim enough to make him release his hold on Carlin. Slim was blurrily aware that Jess had lunged forward in an attempt to support him. Even though he too was prevented from using his obvious fighting ability, Slim knew that together, if the outlaws had not been armed, he and Jess were more than capable of dealing with them. He felt a surge of warm comradeship for the young Texan.

Carlin scrambled to his feet, but surprisingly he seemed amused rather than angry. Slim’s attack had given him more ideas: “Let’s have some fun while we wait.”

The other man hauled Slim up, twisting his arm painfully behind his back. “Hit ‘im, Bud!”

“You know me, Clint, I like to watch.”

\- _What the heck was Carlin up to now? –_

Another lightning glance passed between Slim and Jess. Then the Texan let his attention drop to floor as if he was intimidated. Slim was pretty certain that he was no such thing, but was trying to lull Carlin into a false sense of security. The communication between the two of them was so strong it did not need words to express their shared opposition and resolve.

Carlin was grinning devilishly. He reminded Jess, “You were squarin’ up with old Slim here.”

Jess risked another brief eye contact with Slim, as they both gathered their wits and their courage to seize whatever advantage they could.

Carlin did not give them the chance as he ordered: “Take it up where y’ left off.”

“We were just horsin’ around,” Jess said quickly.

“Horse around some more!” Carlin moved back towards the window, the better to see the ‘entertainment’ he had staged.

Jess and Slim faced each other, eye to eye. Jess looked deeply reluctant to continue their fight under such circumstances, but Carlin gave him no choice.

“Now I wanna see a good right to the jaw. All y’ might.”

Slim looked across at Carlin, then drew a breath and steeled himself. He was pretty sure that Jess, accustomed as he was to fending for himself alone, was quite capable of hurting him – but he was willing to take a chance on that and take a beating if he had to. He’d just be disappointed if the sense of solidarity and support Jess had given him so far came to nothing. And the outcome would ultimately depend on how much interference there was going to be in this so-called fight. He took a quick look over his shoulder to see where Clint was standing and if he was likely to join in. Then he looked directly at Jess, trying to communicate his trust that they could both rise to this new challenge.

“Well, go ahead. Hit me.”

He seemed to see a kind of loathing in the Texan’s eyes. Loathing at being forced into this mockery of a fight when, if they had to settle their differences in such a way, it should be on their own terms for their own reasons. The intense blue of Jess’s eyes flickered for a moment because his long lashes dropped over them a couple of times as if cutting off his thoughts.

Slim wondered what those thoughts were. He was in the young man’s hands and if Jess chose to inflict the damage which would satisfy Carlin, it would prevent Slim from making any meaningful attempt to stop the outlaw and his plans. He just had to trust they could fake it sufficiently between them and that Jess was willing to do so.

Now they squared up to each other. Slim could see Jess was totally focused on controlling the blow he was about to deliver to Slim. The co-ordination with which Jess struck and Slim reacted was almost as if they were engaged in a leisurely dance. Jess’s fist swung back and flashed out, just slowly enough to let Slim react as if the blow had been a hard one, rather than glancing off him.

They did not get away with it.

“I said all your might. I’ll give you one more chance. You’ve got one more second.”

Jess had pulled back, obviously hoping one strike would be enough. Slim doubted Carlin would be satisfied with anything short of blood and a knock-out. He frowned in concentration, his eyebrows clenched and a furrow sliced between them. He certainly wasn’t going to show any kind of weakness for Carlin’s entertainment.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

This time Jess’s blow carried more power, though much short of what he could probably have put into it if they had really had a reason to fight. Slim deliberately went stumbling backwards as if the punch had knocked him right off balance, but once again their ruse failed.

“Y’ rolled with the punch!” Carlin observed as he hauled Slim back for further punishment. “This time I want y’ to stand right there and take it. If y’ don’t –“ His gun pointed unwaveringly at Jonesy, “Paul Revere bites the dust.”

Revulsion seized Slim forcibly at this. This gang leader, worthless as he was, saw fit to abuse and mock their country’s heritage and hard-won independence just as he did its laws. In that moment, Slim could have readily killed Carlin, had his own sense of justice not been so strong.

Besides, there was no way he was going to risk Jonesy’s life, not after sharing the whole of his lifetime with him and being the recipient of all his shrewd and kindly care. If his decision meant he was really going to get hurt, so be it. But he hoped against hope that something would happen before he was completely incapacitated.

What happened was that Clint announced the stage was ready to leave and Andy was coming back inside.

“You’ve got three seconds.” Carlin started counting.

“Hit me!”

“Harder than last time or it don’t count.”

“Hit me!”

Slim saw Jess tense every muscle in anticipation, the Texan’s apprehension clear as he licked his lips. There was no alternative but to obey Carlin. Jess’s eyes sought Slim’s. Slim was warmed to see in that gaze a profound unwillingness to strike, had it not been for the threat to Jonesy, which seemed to matter to the young drifter as much as to Slim himself. He knew from Jess’s expression that the next blow had nothing to do with the argument over Andy and everything to do with living to pursue their common aim of justice.

_\- They understood each other! -_

It was Slim’s last conscious thought.

Jess hit him. The power-packed punch sent Slim sprawling, knocking him out more surely than any rifle blow had. 

*** * * * * * ***

Somewhere in the fog of pain, his brain registered a gunshot. Barely conscious, his heart leapt with fear for Andy and he struggled to leap up physically and go to his rescue.

_\- What if he had failed? What if Andy was –_

“Slim! Slim!” The beloved voice was frantic with fear. Warm hands seized and shook him.

 _\- Andy was still alive! –_ Relief so powerful that it was painful coursed through him. – _But if Andy was unhurt, who had been shot? -_

In the background there were voices, the slamming of a door and then a rush of footsteps towards him. Slim shook his head, trying to clear it. Forcing his eyes open, he found that Andy was holding him and his face was scrunched up with the same fear which had shaken Slim to his core.

\- _They had so nearly lost each other! –_

He was physically shaking with the shock of the emotion, far more than the effect of the blow from Jess.

More warm hands, stronger than Andy’s, seized his right arm and kept him stable. Then one of those hands rested on his shoulder, firm and reassuring and somehow conveying a support which was far more than physical. Slim felt, for the first time since the brotherhood of the war, that he had someone alongside him and someone who would cover his back, come what may.

He turned his attention from Andy to find Jess kneeling beside him, his blue eyes dark with concern. Evidently he felt he might have hit Slim too hard and incapacitated him totally, something Slim himself had no doubt he was capable of doing.

To lighten the mood and reassure then all, he managed a weak grin and quipped: “Thanks for missing my nose!”

He got an answering grin from Jess, a sigh of relief from Andy and a huff of disapproval from Jonesy, who disappeared into the bedroom, where he could be heard rummaging about.

“I’m a coward!”

In the flurry of the fight, they had all forgotten the judge. Slim groaned inwardly. – _How much damage had Carlin managed to inflict on the man’s self esteem and what could they do to restore it?_ -

At his side, the answer came at once. Jess said firmly, “Acceptin’ what has to be, your Honor, ain’t bein’ a coward.”

Slim nodded in warm approval of Jess’s judgement and patted him gently. He was hardly aware that his hand was still resting on Jess’s thigh, only conscious of the firm, warm muscle, taut and compact from years of hard riding and somehow symbolic of the kind of endurance and strength you could expect from the man if he were on your side.

Jonesy reappeared with his bottle of whiskey and, although his intentions were kindly, Slim just knew he was in for a reprimand. Sure enough, the old cook told him: “Someone’s taken a swig of it. From now on, medicinal purposes only!”

All the same, Slim still got another good swig of whiskey, which was revitalizing, but didn’t actually to clear his head, so much so that he just kept a grip on Jess as the nearest stable object within his reach.

He knew he needed to get to his feet. – _Time was a-wasting and Carlin would get away with his outrageous impersonation if they didn’t get a move on!_ -

So he was grateful when Jess gripped his bicep firmly to help him up. Andy was full of worry that Slim could hardly stand up, but in fact once he was vertical again the world seemed to right itself and he felt much steadier. In his eagerness to thwart Carlin’s plans he did not need the support of Jess’s hand, but the support of his determined company.

“We’ve got to get to Laramie before they do. Will you ride with me?” His eyes locked with Jess’s once again, with a fervent appeal and trust in them.

“You won’t have a chance.”

Slim felt as if Jess really had delivered a knock-out blow. – _He’d thought they were of one mind, that he could trust Jess with his back, that he could rely on his experience as a fighter and his determination to right this wrong. Well, evidently, he was wrong himself!_ –

There was no time to lose and Slim could not wait to argue or persuade someone who was unwilling to step up to the mark. He ignored the drifter, unreliable as he had proved to be, confirming Slim’s original judgement. Instead he told Andy and Jonesy: “I’m going after them!”

Somehow they were all tumbling out into the yard, where the dust from the departure of the last outlaw had hardly settled. Jonesy wanted to volunteer to ride with him and a fleeting thought passed through Slim’s mind that the Texan ought to be shamed by the older man’s example. There was no way, however, Slim would allow or Jonesy could undertake such a venture – his back was just too bad. Turning him down was difficult because Slim didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but he wanted Jonesy to hurt his back even less.

As he hastened to get his horse, he found the answer to his question about the gunshot. The guard from the stage was lying where he had fallen. He was not a man Slim knew well, but it was not in Slim’s nature to disregard the suffering of another human being. And, ironically, it solved his problem with Jonesy.

“Take care of him, will you, Jonesy? I can’t stop to help. They’ve too much of a lead already!”

Slim flung saddle and bridle back on his chestnut, Alamo, and, without further farewell or time for interference from his worried family, tore away down the road to Laramie. But while his mind was fixed on the task he had undertaken, at the bottom of his heart he wondered if this might be the last he would ever see of Jess Harper.

*** * * * * * ***

As he rode furiously towards Laramie, Slim was also thinking furiously. Furiously on three counts: firstly because he needed a plan if he was not going to get killed, secondly because he was determined to wreak retribution on Carlin and thirdly because Harper had let him down.

_\- They had been so close. In mind, one in their determination. In heart, one in shared values. In body, one in … -_

But he didn’t try to analyse what had happened during the fighting. That strange surrendering pause when they first got to grips with each other. The way, when Carlin forced them to continue, they seemed to be able to read each other’s mind. The way they had been physically in tune with each other. The way he had trusted … Jess.

Instead he concentrated on applying his knowledge of the land and the best way to beat the stage to Laramie. He knew it would be a near thing, but it was just possible if he pushed Alamo to the limit and used the trails rather than the road. There was a danger in this. A horse and rider were more likely to come to grief galloping along the rough surface of the trail, but it was a risk he would have to take. Accordingly, he cut across his own land, past the lake and down the trail which ran across it.

\- _The one Harper said his horse preferred. Well, so did Alamo! –_

The trail soon re-joined the road and Slim was thundering past the cemetery. He was heading for another track, not much more than a deer slot, which he knew led downhill through a belt of forest and would cut off a wide loop of the road. It might just gain him the precious advantage he needed. There were, however, serious disadvantages to the trail which forced him to slow down as he and his mount negotiated the rough slopes and overhanging branches of the surrounding trees. He could only hope his luck and his speed would hold.

It was not in Slim Sherman’s habit or nature to curse and he did so rarely. Nonetheless he uttered a bitter oath as his short cut came to an abrupt end. A flooded stream had obviously caused part of the hillside to slip away, carrying with it uprooted trees and loose scree which completely blocked the path. It might be possible for a man on foot to scramble through it, but it was impassable to a horse.

\- _On foot he would never reach Laramie in time! –_

Slim was forced to turn back. It was a hard setback to accept and it was hard going uphill but there was no sense in urging Alamo faster until they reached the road again. They were still some distance off it when his sharp ears caught the unmistakable sound of a stage being driven fast and furiously.

_\- Maybe luck was on his side after all! Now at least there was a chance to tackle Carlin! –_

The fact that he was seriously outnumbered did not deter Slim. If the stage was on the road, there was a good likelihood it would be heading back to the relay station. Then he would not be on his own. Despite his deep hurt at the loss of the Texan’s support, he refused to believe the man would ignore Carlin’s return.

 _\- Faced_ _with the need to defend Andy, Jonesy and the judge, surely Harper would back him this time?_ –

Slim pushed to the back of his mind the possibility that the drifter might have cut his losses and left, travelling on to another ranch, to some place which might take him in, like a wild hawk settling only where there was some advantage to lure him. There was too much urgency about stopping Carlin for anything else to matter.

He shook his head vigorously as Alamo lurched up from the track onto the road. – _If he was alone, he was alone! –_ And that just made him wonder how long Jess …… how long _Harper_ had been alone on the road.

No sooner had he regained the road himself than all thoughts of Texan drifters were driven from his mind. The stage was not heading back to the relay station. Instead he could see it had turned off the road and was being driven speedily up the track to Baxter’s Ridge.

Since the trail went nowhere, he couldn’t imagine what Carlin was up to. But then, trying to think like Carlin or out-think him was a lost cause. But Slim did not intend to lose the final battle! He urged Alamo swiftly after the coach, eating up its dust in pursuit.

The stage disappeared from sight over the high ridge ahead. Slim urged Alamo to his uttermost speed. He could tell from the way the stage team were pulling that Frankie was still driving, presumably because he could get a better speed from them than a stranger. But once Carlin had reached his objective, whatever it was, Frankie was expendable! And the coach could not go much further – Slim knew the track petered out very soon.

His worst fears were confirmed as he topped the ridge himself to see below the halted stage and the outlaws making their way down the slope towards a bunch of horses. Slim mentally kicked himself for not realizing that the guard who had been left behind would have been given a rendezvous with the coach so the gang could make a speedy getaway.

\- _At all costs, he had to prevent that now_! -

Slim was an excellent shot with a rifle and was confident he could pick off the outlaws, given time and the right proximity. He spurred Alamo downwards toward the stage. As he did so, it began to move, gathering speed rapidly as if under some urgent command. Its movement revealed Clint, in the act of drawing a bead on Slim.

There was a crack of a single gunshot. Clint fell without firing at Slim.

Slim looked up in surprise. The shot had come from the rocks atop a ridge overlooking the valley where the stage had pulled up. He could see no-one – just a faint wisp of gun-smoke. But there was only one person who could have known of Slim’s intention and his danger and who shared his determination to bring Carlin to account.

Grinning triumphantly to himself, Slim hastily took cover. – _He had not been wrong! He had no idea why Jess had come or how he had known where he was needed. It only mattered that he was here, now, with Slim! –_ He somehow knew, as if he could see it, there would be an answering grin on Jess’s face.

The shot had alerted Carlin and his fellows that they were not going to make their escape as easily as they had planned. They immediately took shelter under the cliff-face of the ridge, where Jess, on the summit, could not fire on them directly. Nonetheless, Slim was impressed with the economical and accurately placed shots from the Texan, which let the outlaws know exactly what they would get if they broke cover. He himself concentrated on taking out some of their number if he could.

It was a total shock to see a body falling from above.

\- _Please God, don’t let it be Jess! –_

Slim’s fervent and heartfelt thanks went up when, a few moments later, he saw Jess slipping and sliding his way down the cliff in a series of leaps and bounds. He looked reassuringly alive and in command of the situation. Slim wondered briefly who the falling body had belonged to, but guessed Carlin had sent someone up to take care of Jess. – _The more fool them! –_

Now the two of them were in the position he always knew they could achieve. Their accurate firepower and instinctive coordination was more than a match for a bunch of outlaws. Slim broke cover and sprinted for the bottom of the cliff, just as Jess paused in his descent to take out the last man standing beside the gang leader.

Now only Carlin remained.

Jess’s sharp shooting had set Slim free to tackle Carlin. And tackle Carlin he did! In the end the bold gang leader was reduced to scrambling on his hands and knees among the rocks until he was caught and hauled to his feet by an enraged Slim Sherman.

Slim did not often lose his temper. Right now he definitely had: “You like to watch, huh? Well watch this!”

He hauled back his arm with all the pent-up fury of a long and turbulent day. He slung such a punch at Carlin that the outlaw went reeling. It felt right and good to force him to swallow his own medicine. All the same, there was something missing: a sarcastic observer …

Not for long! Jess surveyed Slim’s technique with mock-criticism: “Hey, all your might … that was better … now let’s see it real good and,” he admonished the battered gang leader, “this time don’t roll with the punch.”

If Slim had not been so furious, he would have roared with laughter. As it was, he had more urgent things to do.

“Get up!”  Once more he hauled Carlin to his unwilling feet and delivered a final knock-out punch.

“That was just fine.” Jess might be imitating Carlin, but he was also grinning at Slim. They stood together, united in their satisfaction at having served justice and seriously out of breath as a result.

They’d scarcely recovered or said a word to each other when a full-scale posse arrived. It seemed a little redundant, since the Sherman and Harper team had successfully disposed of or captured the entire bunch of outlaws. But, as Jess remarked: “That saves us the trouble of takin’ this crow-bait to town.”

What this crow-bait had done in his home took Slim’s anxious thoughts straight back to the safety of those he’d left behind. Knowing how his brother already hero-worshiped the Texan, he turned in alarm to Jess. “Hey, where’s Andy. Is he here?”

“No and he don’t know I am. You’d better get back soon. He’ll be worryin’.”

Relief flooded Slim’s battered feelings, not just because of Andy but because Jess himself had proved in the nick of time that he would not let Slim down. In retrospect Slim realized Jess had probably been reluctant to commit to the chase for fear Andy would insist on going with him or following on his own. It was still a mystery how he had managed to arrive exactly where he was needed until Jess explained the clue he’d over heard. And of course, he couldn’t resist what Slim was coming to understand was a characteristic mischievous humor as he chuckled: “I came the short way. I had to cut across your private property again. I’m sorry about that.”

Slim laughed too but was conscious that he had done his best to drive Jess away. Now he was beginning to feel as if it was very important for the Texan to feel welcome. “Well, I won’t charge you this time. 

In his heart he wanted to say more, much more. Time seemed to stand still. The rapport between them was so totally different from the start of the day. They were still looking each other right in the eye and neither of them saw anything but appreciation and trust. Yet the words didn’t come.

Jess finally broke the pause. “Well, I guess I’ll be riding on. Tell Andy – tell him I’ll drop by some time when his feather-down grows out.”

“Ride back through Laramie, I’ll buy you a drink.” Slim invited hopefully. He was more than ready to make amends, to be friends and set aside their bad start. He was eager to find out more about the man, why he was drifting and what his aims were.

Jess shook his head. “Remember what Jonesy said, for medical purposes only.” He slapped Slim lightly on the arm and walked away to where he had left his horse. He did not look back or see Slim was looking unhappily after him.

Left alone once more, Slim was startled by his feeling of bereavement. – _This could have been the start of something good! -_ He just knew they would make a strong and loyal team together. It was so long since he had had someone with whom he could live and work and laugh and – _heck!_ – even get drunk. It was so long since there was someone of his own age who he could trust.

It seemed impossible that his attitude could have changed so completely in such a short time. He had totally misread Jess’s motivation, his interest in Andy, his relaxation in the house, his reaction to Carlin’s depredations. Where he had seen only self-interest, Jess had been concerned and caring, especially about Andy. He had shown respect for the law and understanding of the judge’s self-condemnation, which made Slim think Jess had almost certainly learnt some hard lessons along his way. To top it all, he felt that Jess was weary – weary of the uncertainty and hardship of the Big Open, and, for all his obvious competence and independence, longing for the kind of stability the family of the ranch could offer.

\- _When he had ridden away, Jess had not looked happy, but resigned. As if another place had fallen short of expectation. He’d simply taken the familiar, lonely trail because he could and would survive on it._ _Like a wild hawk, he would choose to roam free, when there was nothing luring him to stay. -_

Slim came to a decision. He’d done his best to drive Jess away, and yet Jess had given him everything in support during the final fight. Now he had to offer him something in return – something worthy of the loyalty and courage and skill he had briefly placed at Slim’s disposal. Something to let him know that he was wanted and there was a place for him to belong.

Alamo was fast. All the same it seemed to take for ever before Slim saw the rider on the bay horse, travelling at a steady mile-eating jog. Then it felt like a mad stampede as he sped to catch up with his quarry. 

Jess seemed deep in thought, so much so that he hardly reacted to being pursued, even though he was presumably usually fully alert to such danger.

Slim really hoped it was because he knew who was after him and wanted to be caught up with. All the same, he didn’t want to imply that Jess was careless, so he just said: “You’re a hard man to catch up with,” as they halted together.

“I wanna make the next town before dark.” Jess’s gaze was on the distance, as if he were mentally measuring how far he had to travel before he could find rest and shelter.

Slim took a deep breath, uttered a silent prayer to the God of friendship and hospitality, and made his offer.

“Could use an extra hand around here. Wouldn’t pay much –” He deliberately phrased it in terms of work because he knew the drifter would find this more natural, more acceptable, than a direct offer to live at the ranch. He held his breath again.

“I like bein’ my own boss.”

The wildness and self-sufficiency which Slim had first sensed in him was Jess’s natural reaction. Inherent in him was the desire for space and freedom – a dream which would not change, even if he chose to link his life and his future to a single, special place. That place would have to be worthy in more than just material comforts.

But Slim knew the value of the lure he was offering. All around them was the broad sweep of the land to which his father had first set his claim. Slim too was a man with a dream in his eyes. “There’s a real future here. Finest cow country in Wyoming. What d’you say? This could lead to something.”

“Yeah. It sure could. Trouble!”

 _\- Yes, Jess Harper was almost certainly going to be trouble! Big trouble in a small package!_ –

Slim was undeterred. It would take a lot more than trouble to put him off once he had made up his mind.

“Why don’t we take that chance? Come on, we’ll be late for supper,” he ordered confidently, praying Jess would respond automatically both to the command and to the thought of supper.

Slim urged Alamo into a gallop and Jess’s bay seemed to be the one making the decision because it pelted after them and swiftly caught up. Then they rode stride for stride together, like an omen of things to come.

Presently they reached the slope behind the barn again. Below, by the corral gate, a disconsolate young figure was pacing back and forth in an agony of restlessness. As the two riders urged their horses down the incline, Andy looked up and gave a great yell of triumph.

“They’re back! Slim’s back and Jess is with him!” 

The eager youngster ran enthusiastically into the house to fetch Jonesy. Taking a quick glance at Jess, hoping he would be delighted at Andy’s simple, innocent response, Slim saw, for a split second, some shadow of an old pain to etch itself on Jess’s face. It was gone almost before he had recognize it.

Then they were dismounting and Andy was dealing out hugs all round.

To Slim’s relief and pleasure, Jess reciprocated happily. Then he looked round at their welcoming faces and the shelter of the barn and the house. Now he really did come to a decision – but he was not above pulling Slim’s leg as he did so.

“All right, deal me in. We’ll play a hand or two and see how it works out.”

Jonesy, however, had his measure and was quick to respond. “But don’t deal any off the bottom,” he warned shrewdly.

There was no doubt in Slim’s mind that Jess would give them of his best. His light blue eyes met those bright blue ones in a final exchange of understanding. There was hope … trust … warmth … promise. A promise for the next stage on the journey – together.

 

* * *

 

This story follows the episode  _Stage Stop_ very closely and it is acknowledged that much of the detail of dialogue and action is drawn from it.

 

 

 


End file.
